


Enough

by coffeeandcas



Series: SPN Summer Trope Party [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dom Benny, Dom/sub Play, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Leather Kink, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Sub Dean Winchester, Sub Drop, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Dean is the new cop on the block and has only been at his new job for three weeks. Already he's made three epic screw-ups and has drawn the attention of his boss. Deputy Lafitte, who Dean has been dating for a while now outside of work, calls him into the office and reprimands him, then asks him to make a very interesting choice...Trope: AU cops/detectives





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/gifts).



> This prompt started out with a little kinky handcuff fun, then the boys got carried away. This is my first time writing this pairing properly, and writing a BDSM scene, so comments and con-crit are not only welcome but encouraged! I want to get better at writing dom/sub dynamics so tips and advice are all good. That said, I hope this is enjoyable, reasonably accurate, and safe reading!

Dean Winchester’s sassy, arrogant, over-confident swagger lasts the entire way from the front door to the water cooler: all of ten feet. As he reaches for a plastic cup, parched and dying for a drink thanks to the mid-July Louisiana sun, a voice booms out across the room and his hand freezes in midair. _Shit_. Oh, shit. What has he done _now?_

“Winchester? _Winchester_! Where the hell is he? _There_ you are, boy, where the hell have you been? Don't you know to come when you hear ya damn name?” The Deputy has a low, smooth, rumbling type of voice which is normally cool and charming, just the right side of pleasant. But now? Now it's loaded with ire an directed right at Dean. “Get here, boy. _Now.”_

Everyone is staring. Absolutely _everyone_. Every pair of eyes is on him, and Dean gets the feeling they all know something he doesn't. He turns to see Deputy Lafitte standing in the door to his office, glowering in his direction and looking thunderous. The whine he was building up to of ‘but Sir, I'm about to clock off’ dies in his throat as he sees the man’s normally calm demeanour has vanished and, instead, he radiates fury. Oh crap. Seriously, what _has_ he done this time? This is only his third week and already he's had two ass-whoopings. A third ain't going to look so good on his record. He hangs his head and walks like a man condemned, feeling the gaze of every other officer, detective and technician on him like spotlights. The Deputy waits until he's safely inside the confines of the small, sparsely decorated office before closing the door firmly and crossing the room to take his place at his desk. Dean stands, nervous but trying valiantly to keep his mask of confidence in place, and goes for a smile.

“You wanted to see me, boss?”

“Sit yourself down, Winchester. _Now_. And drop the charm, I ain't bitin’.” The Deputy’s voice is slow and drawling, and he's leaning back in his chair to watch every move Dean makes as he sits down in the chair indicated to him.

“Have I… done something? Boss?” It's a failed attempt at sweetening the mood, and Deputy Benny Lafitte sees straight through it. Lord knows this isn't the first impudent, freshly-graduated kid he's had stroll through his doors thinking he knows it all. Dean has heard plenty of stories from the other guys about new kids on the block only lasting a week or two. He so very badly doesn't want to be another name to add to that list. He sits up a little straighter and tries to tidy himself up; polite, slightly nervous smile plastered on, hands together in his lap… he's pulling every trick he knows. And by the narrowed eyes and raised brow of his Deputy, Lafitte isn't falling for it, not for a single second.

“Where's your report on the Collins case?” Benny asks him quietly, almost casually, and Dean’s stomach drops into his boots. Oh _fuck_. The Collins case is high-profile and he had been over the moon to be allowed to tag along with it. Two senior officers, Detectives Mills and Bradbury had been in charge of the homicide investigation and had grudgingly allowed Dean to write up part of their report. The report that was due an hour ago. And where has he left it?

“Um. It's on my desk at home, boss. But I can go get it right now, I'll only be a half hour-”

“Stop.” Deputy Lafitte raises a hand, palm facing Dean, and shakes his head in apparent despair. “Why is it on your desk at home and not on my desk in front of my nose?”

“Because… I… um…” Dean doesn't have an answer. He stares down at his hands, feeling his cheeks flush, humiliated. He's angry and disappointed in himself for forgetting something so elementary, and the Deputy is now angry and disappointed in him, too. Great.

Deputy Lafitte sighs and pushes his chair back from the desk. “Stand up, Dean.” He does, nervously. The look in Benny’s eyes is familiar, and it sends a spark of excitement pulsing through him, tangling up with his disappointment in himself and nervousness over what might happen to him.

The Deputy moves behind him and Dean tenses, heart in his throat. A warm hand comes to the back of his neck then moves down, fingers light along his spine.

“What am I gonna do with you, Dean?” Warm breath caresses his ear and Dean shivers. “You gotta learn, boy, to get yourself organised. I ain't chasin’ ya, and neither is anyone else. Got it?”

Dean nods, and a second later Benny’s hand comes down sharply on his ass and he lets a yelp slip out. “Sorry, boss. Yes, boss. I got it.”

“Good. You fuck up again, and I hear about it? I'll beat your ass until you can't sit down, you get me?” Dean nods frantically, trying valiantly to ignore the pulse of heat that goes straight to his groin at the suggestion. “Now, when will I see that report?”

“First thing tomorrow, boss.” Dean is staring straight ahead, body a firm line of tension as Benny steps in closer, right up into his personal space. Then his arm is taken and he's spun around to face the Deputy, and the look in his eyes is very different now.

“Good. Now, I got a question for you, cher.” Benny backs Dean up against the wall, raising one arm to rest by Dean’s head, effectively boxing him in with his body. “I'll give you a choice. When you leave my office, this conversation is over. You've been slapped on the wrist: it needn't go further than that, and hopefully you've learned your lesson about turnin’ in your reports on time. I clock off in fifteen, you clock off in thirty: I can either take you out for dinner and you can tell me about your third week working here over a bottle of wine, then we can go back to your place for… dessert.” Dean’s breathing accelerates as Benny’s voice lowers, and he feels his body respond to the Deputy’s suggestion. _Yes_ , that sounds incredible. “Or…” Oh. He likes the sound of _or_. “You come over to my place as soon as your shift ends, and I can… drive today’s lesson home, so to speak. Punish you for your mishap, and make sure you don't commit a repeat offence.” Benny leans in close, pressing his whole body up against Dean, and the heat between them is building rapidly. Dean’s heart is pounding in his ears. “I wanna scene with you, boy. Remind you who you belong to and what's expected of you.” He kisses Dean then, on the mouth, firm but sweet. “But it's up to you, cher. I want whatever you want. You know that.”

Old words float to the forefront of Dean’s mind: _The sub holds the power, sugar. One word from you, and everythin’ stops. You're in control here, not me._ He swallows, hard, allowing Benny to kiss him again as his body responds in excitement.

“Would you just be happy with just dinner, though?” _Dinner and dessert, of course._ He murmurs into the Deputy’s mouth and Benny sighs, pulling back.

“Don't insult me, sugar. You know I want you for more than your body.”

Dean nods; he does know. He just forgets sometimes. _I want whatever you want._ It's true, Benny would be happy with either choice Dean makes. It's up to him. Does he want romance? Or punishment…? He's about to answer when Benny presses a gentle finger to his lips to quiet him.

“Don't decide now. Go back to your desk, and think about it.” He leans in again; Benny’s mouth brushes Dean’s ear, and a full-body shiver runs down his spine. His next words make Dean’s mouth run dry and his brain short-circuits.

“All I need to know is whether you want me in a dinner jacket tonight… Or in leather…”

*

He doesn't have a clue what to expect tonight as he pulls up outside Benny’s sprawling two-storey house on the outskirts of town. Sometimes when he goes there, the scene starts as soon as he steps through the door, while other times they will chat and discuss what Benny has planned and Dean will add or subtract anything he has an opinion on. Today? Today he has no idea what awaits him inside the comfort of Benny’s home.

They've been seeing each other for months. They met while Dean was still at the Academy, and had hooked up a few days later. A week after that they started dating and in the months that followed Benny introduced him more and more to the world of BDSM, something Dean had little familiarity with. His trust in Benny is implicit, because they're more than just Deputy and Officer. More than just fuck buddies. There are feelings between them, usually unspoken and left to burn gently under the heat of their passion, but they both know they're there. Dean feels it in Benny’s kisses, in the way he's so gentle with him after a scene, and in the way he holds his hand while they walk together into the precinct some mornings. He hopes he conveys it right back to Benny in soft smiles and even softer embraces, things he isn't familiar with and hasn't done before. Well, that was before Benny.

He gets out of the car and locks it, heading for the door and attempting to keep his nerves at bay. Although he trusts Benny with his life, he’s always anxious before a scene. Nervous that he won't be good enough or that he’ll fuck up. Worried that this is the time Benny will decide he doesn't want him any more and ask him to leave. But that's part of why they scene: when Dean is lost to pleasure and submission, he forgets all about the self-doubt and anxiety that plagues him on the daily, and just lets himself _feel_. He can be himself in those moments, can enjoy what he used to think was forbidden, and knows he's safe in Benny’s care. Benny knows too, knows that Dean is insecure and vulnerable and hides it all under a mask of bravado, which probably explains why he goes out of his way afterwards to take care of him, and make him feel cherished and valued. Dean can't lie: the aftercare is sometimes his favourite part. Lying quietly in Benny’s strong arms while his mind is calm and still, while it's dark outside and it feels like they're the only people awake in the world, is one of his favourite things. He wishes he knew how to have it that way always.

He doesn't have to knock. The door opens before he can raise his fist, and Benny takes his hand to draw him inside and then they're kissing against the closed door. The kisses are slow, deep, languid, and Benny’s hands gently explore his waistline and caress up his back. His shirt is damp with sweat, the Louisiana heat still high at the end of the day, and he's sure he could do with a shower. He's also sure that the Deputy doesn't give a damn.

“Mmm, I've been looking forward to this, _mon cher_ ,” Benny breathes into his mouth. “I've missed tasting your mouth.”

“I'm sure I spent the night on Monday,” Dean’s mouth is released as Benny goes for his neck, and he clutches at the other man to hold him close. _This_ is what he wants. Benny, near him and all over him, wanting him and desiring him. But this isn't quite what he deserves right now. He deserves to be punished for what he did. Almost as though he can read his thoughts, Benny pulls back and laughs low in his threat.

“Don't worry, sugar, we’ll get you there. Have a drink first. It's too hot out, don't want you dehydrated and passin’ out on me.”

They sip water out on the decking and Benny’s hand eventually comes to the small of Dean’s back, rubbing in gentle circles: a prelude to what's coming. One thing Dean craves during a scene is contact. Constantly being touched in one way or another, and if he's left alone too long without it he always starts to struggle. Benny knows this, and ever since a couple of bad incidents back when they first started scening and Dean hadn't known his own body and mind quite well enough, the man hasn't let him down once. _You're too important to me, Dean,_ Benny had whispered to him once when they were lying on the edge of sleep in each other's arms. _I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. To keep you safe. I…_ He hadn't finished his sentence and Dean hadn't asked him to, but they both knew it was the closest Benny had come to saying the big L word. Neither of them have come close to it since then, but Dean is starting to want to. One day, he tells himself. One day, one day soon…

“How are you feelin’, Dean?” Benny continues to rub his back soothingly, his voice low and liquid, like melting honey. He only ever asks that if he's got an intense scene in mind, or if he's concerned Dean is going into it in the wrong headspace. Or, more often than not, both.

“I'm fine, sir.”

“No.” Benny’s other hand comes up and he taps Dean on the chin. “I'm not sir, not yet. This is just us, cher. You and me. I'll let you know when it's time.”

And he will, Dean knows it. He shouldn't have made that slip-up to begin with; Benny is still in his cop uniform from work, and he smiling gently at Dean and stroking his back. This isn't a scene, he's right, and it was stupid of him to say that. Another gentle tap on his chin shocks him, and he twists to see Benny watching him with a carefully schooled neutral expression.

“You sure you're fine? I won't do this if you're not.”

“I am.” Dean finishes his water and hands the bottle to Benny; it vanishes somewhere, somehow, and the warm hand never leaves his back. It's comforting, and he leans into the touch. “I promise. I want this.”

“And why are you here, Dean?” The Deputy’s voice is still gentle, probing. Seeking honesty. Honesty, right, Dean can do this. This question is easy.

“I'm here to be punished. For what I did, for forgetting the report. I'm here to learn my lesson.” Benny is quiet for a heartbeat too long, and Dean realises he's screwed up. That it was the wrong answer. He realises quickly what the right one is; his voice shakes a little as he supplies it. “I'm here because I chose it.”

“You did.” Benny leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And I hope you know I would have been happy goin’ for dinner, cher.”

“I know,” Dean whispers, leaning over hopefully for a kiss on the mouth; Benny obliges willingly. “But I wanted this. I wanted to play.”

“Did ya now?” Benny’s voice drops an octave and Dean’s whole body tingles. He's ready for them to start now, for their scene to begin. Thankfully, Benny seems to be on the same wavelength.

“Any new limits I should know about?” The hand on his back is insistent now, pulling him closer somehow even though Benny is right at his side. Dean smiles in spite of himself. Benny _always_ asks him this, even if their last scene was only a few days ago. He once queried why, trying to tell the other man that he would let him know if anything changed, but had received a smile and a shake of the head in response. So he had changed tack, asking how long they need to be together before Benny stops asking, and the response had been, ‘when I've married you, sugar, and even then I'll probably still ask you’. The answer had shut Dean up then, and moments later Benny had shut him up properly for at least an hour by pushing him to his knees and pressing his cock past his lips and instructing him to practice his deep-throating skills. Dean had obliged, willingly. The memory makes him shift awkwardly, his dick perking up in interest.

“No. Nothing.” He allows himself to look up at Benny through dark lashes, hoping he looks sultry and desirable. “I want this. I need this; I need you to show me who's boss, and who I belong to.”

“Damn, boy, how did you get to be so perfect?” Benny’s hand comes to the back of his neck and he steps in, starting to kiss a gentle trail up the side of Dean’s neck. “Do you know your safe word?”

“Yes. Kansas.

“Good boy.” Benny kisses his temple. “Why did you choose that one, out of interest?”

“I don't know…” He closes his eyes and tilts his head, giving more access and enjoying the attention. But it's too much, too gentle. He doesn't want gentle right now, he wants…

“‘I don't know…’?”

“I don't know, _sir.”_ And that's his cue. His command. Suddenly the air in the room changes and Dean's filled with a nervous thrill of excitement. Benny steps away and slaps his ass, hard.

“You were late, boy. By seven minutes. What's your excuse?”

“I left late, sir, and I…” No, wait, back up. That's not the right answer. Immediately contrite, he takes a deep breath and hangs his head. “I'm sorry, sir. I don't have an excuse.”

“So how should I handle this? Just ignore your tardiness, pretend it never happened? When I'm already punishing you for your lack of organisation?”

“No, sir. You should punish me. Please.” Dean feels his body respond to his own words; his jeans feel tighter at his groin and his temperature spikes along with his heart rate. Damn, he needs this so bad. Benny thinks for a moment before answering.

“What's seven multiplied by five?”

“Uhm…” _Shit_. Math isn't his strong point. “Thirty seven?”

“No.” Benny slaps his ass through his jeans again and Dean jerks at the impact. “It's thirty five. But we’ll go with your number: think you can take my hand thirty seven times?”

 _Yes_ , God yes. He loves being spanked by Benny, though he will never admit it out loud. There's something intensely erotic about being spread over the other man’s lap or being on his knees on the bed and having his ass spanked until it's cherry-red and throbbing. He loves feeling the low ache the following day. A good spanking can catapult him into subspace faster than anything else, and that's what he craves right now. The glorious sensation of letting go of his thoughts and worries and concerns, and just _feeling_. Letting Benny work his body over and give him exactly what he needs. He nods, then remembers the first rule Benny ever gave him: verbal answers, always, unless he's gagged - which they don't do often.

“Yes, sir. I can.”

“Good.” Benny squeezes the back of his neck gently and steps away. “Go upstairs, take your clothes off, lie on the bed on your stomach, and wait for me. _Now_ , boy.”

Dean hadn't even realised he’d hesitated; he was too caught up in the look in Benny’s eyes, but now he moves quickly towards the stairs, heart pounding in anticipation and want, and he follows Benny’s instructions to the letter. He folds his clothes neatly, knowing he will likely be reprimanded if he just throws them anywhere, and lies down on his belly, head pillowed on his folded arms and legs just slightly spread. Just the way Benny likes him.

“Three rules tonight, boy.” Benny’s voice makes him jump; he had been drifting already, lost in the fantasies of what his dom plans to do to him. “One: verbal answers to everything. If you forget, I'll remind you once before ending the scene. Two: no swearin’. No curse words. Keep it PG, got it?” ‘Keep it PG’ - Dean almost laughs at how ironic that statement is, given what they're about to do. “Three: you get one orgasm tonight, and that's it. You can choose when you come, but if you go off the second I touch you don't expect me to give you another. You'll have to wait until the mornin’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean has to try valiantly not to sound too eager. He still wants to at least pretend he isn't utterly desperate for all of this; that pretence lasts all of thirty seconds until he turns to look at Benny and his mouth goes dry. He's not Deputy Lafitte any more nor is he Benny, Dean’s sort-of boyfriend. He's Dean’s dom, and Dean feels his body respond instantly to the sight of him standing at the foot of the bed, arms folded and an appraising expression on his face. Benny has on tight leather pants that he knows feel as soft as they look, coupled with a heavy leather belt. Dean’s cock, currently pinned beneath him, twitches and thickens at the possibility of being whipped with that belt. Benny also has on a harness that crossed his broad chest and accentuates his muscles, and the finishing touch is a pair of black leather gloves that Dean _knows_ feel exquisite during a spanking. _Fuck._ Tonight is going to be one to remember, he can already feel it.

Benny approaches him slowly and runs a soothing hand up his spine; Dean arches into the touch and is pushed back down, firmly. “No, boy. You wait until you’re given a command. Until then, you don’t move.”

Chastised, Dean relaxes back onto the bed and closes his eyes, allowing Benny to slowly explore his body. His gloved hand touches him everywhere: from the nape of his neck down his back to the curve of his ass, caresses his thighs and runs feather-light down his calves to his feet. Then Benny takes hold of his hips with both hands and tugs gently. It’s an instruction, and Dean complies immediately, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and keeping his head hanging down between his shoulders. Benny whispers to him to close his eyes, then a soft strip of fabric comes to cover them and is tied snugly behind his head, blindfolding him. He’s asked for his colour and he gives it, green, so easily. He’s relaxed and so, so ready for more. Then his left hand is taken and moved out to the side, and he gets it. He’s supposed to mimic the movement with his right hand and he does, until his shoulders are pressing into the mattress and his face is buried in the pillow, arms stretched out to the side and ass up in the air, the perfect submissive pose for his dom. He hears Benny exhale in satisfaction, and his hands return to Dean’s skin, stroking and caressing and slowly working him into a pleasant haze of arousal.

“Do you need me to bind you, Dean?” The hand on his lower back is reassuring, stroking his skin lightly, and Benny leans down to whisper quietly to him. “Whatever you decide is the right answer.”

After a brief hesitation, Dean nods slowly into the sheets. “Yes, sir, please.”

“Why?” It's an affirmation and a question all in one, and it takes Dean a moment to answer.

“Because I want to be good for you… and stay still. And I don't know if I can without your help…” It's an honest answer, almost too honest. Both Dean and Benny are fully aware that if Dean wasn't blindfolded that his answer would likely have been very different; he struggles with honest over his wants and needs unless he's under Benny’s command, and even then his dom still checks in periodically. It's always been done this way, for as long as Dean can remember. It isn't that Benny doesn't trust Dean; he doesn't trust that Dean trusts himself.

“Alright. Your wish is my command.” The fingers on his back flatten to a whole, warm hand for just a moment. “I'll be right back. Sixty seconds, maximum.”

And he is. This time, he's back with a length of rope and Dean sighs as he feels it drag over his naked skin. Benny takes both his arms gently and pulls them behind his back, forcing his chest and face further into the mattress.

“Turn your head to the side, sugar. I don't want you suffocatin’ on me. That's right.”

Slowly, with gentle yet firm movements, Benny binds Dean’s arms together at his back, elbow to wrist, in a complex shibari knot. Dean _loves_ it when Benny ties him like this and can already feel himself sinking into subspace as he kneels and waits; ten minutes later, when his bindings are complete, he relaxes into them and can't hold in a sigh of relief at the way they cradle his arms. It's almost like being held, in a way, the ropes tight on his skin but not cutting in. He's aware of Benny’s eyes on him, watching him as he adjusts to the bondage, and a moment later gentle hands press on the inside of his thighs, pushing them wider. He obliges, sinking lower into the position, his ass up and his shoulders and chest now firmly on the bed.

“Beautiful, cher. So good for me. So well-behaved.” Benny strokes the tender skin right where Dean’s thigh meets the curve of his ass, then moves up agonisingly slowly. A dry thumb comes to circle his hole gently, the palm spreading his cheek wider and exposing him. “You're goin’ to take all I can give you tonight, ain't that right?” Dean nods, and gets a slap to the ass for his efforts. “Verbal answers, boy, or this ends now.”

“Yes, sir. I am. I want whatever you want,” He throws Benny’s words from earlier back at him and is rewarded with the low rumble of laughter.

“Cheeky. I think I'll add another three to your total for that. You like the sounda that? Think you can take forty?”

It's almost impossible to muffle his groan. “Yes, sir. I know I can.”

“Good.” 

And Benny makes sure he does. When it comes to spanking, Dean never knows what to expect. It could be rough and quick, a real punishment that has Dean howling and sobbing and promising the earth, or it could be slow and almost gentle, working him up into an aroused, desperate frenzy where he begs to come or be fucked or both. Tonight could be either of those things or a heady mixture of the two: and he's nervously excited to find out. Benny settles himself on his knees behind Dean, his hip pressing into the back of Dean’s already-trembling thigh, and a warm hand strokes his lower back. He’s never felt so exposed, bound and spread out for his man, ass in the air waiting for his punishment and he _knows_ Benny’s eyes are on his most intimate area. Then, with no warning, Benny’s hand comes down hard onto the tender skin of his ass and he yelps in shock.

“Count ‘em off for me, boy.” Benny instructs then slaps him again, this time not as hard but the blow hits the tender skin of his upper thigh and Dean cries out and manages to grit out ‘two, thank you sir’ then another comes in quick succession. By the time Dean reaches ten he’s shaking from anticipation, tension, discomfort and heady arousal. His cock hangs between his thighs, full and hard, and he’s panting shallowly. Benny pauses for a moment to allow him to catch his breath before continuing. Each blow is delicious agony, a heady mix of light slaps and deeper, heavier blows and they come at random times and speeds so Dean can’t adequately prepare himself for the impact. He’s moaning constantly by the time they reach twenty-five, barely able to count thanks to the arousal pulsing through his veins, and his ass feels like its on fire. Benny spreads his cheeks with one hand and the next blow, light but still intense thanks to the leather fabric of the glove, falls right over his hole and he shouts out in blissful agony. Another falls in the same place, then another, and soon Dean is aware on some level that his entrance is reddened and puffy and sore, but he’s desperate for Benny to keep going. This is what he wanted, this is the punishment he _needed_.

“Ah! _God_!” That one _hurt_ and he groans, biting down into the sheets to stop himself shouting out a colour he doesn’t mean. He only has five left to go, and they come in quick succession as Benny spanks him hard and fast, making Dean’s whole body rock on the bed with each slap. Then it’s all over and he’s panting and trying to catch his breath while Benny strokes his aching, reddened skin soothingly while he murmurs praise to him. A moment later his hand disappears then returns, wet with lube which he rubs gently over Dean’s aching, exposed hole and they both let out a sigh of pleasure.

Benny’s gloved hand trails slowly down Dean’s crack, over his hole and lower, smearing lube everywhere, until its caressing his balls and stimulating him beautifully. The warm, rough leather, slick with gel feels incredible against his skin, and he can't stop his low moans of pleasure. _Is this allowed? I'm being punished… surely Benny would tell me if I had to be quiet…_ Then his hand dips further, to wrap gently around his cock which hangs heavy and full between his thighs, and pulls it back towards him.

“You look beautiful like this, cher.” Benny’s voice is low and intoxicating as he starts to stroke Dean, playing gently with him and bringing a sheen of sweat to his skin as Dean pants helplessly. “All spread out and ready for me. Why don't you tell me what you think I should do next?”

It's a trick question, it has to be, but if it is then Dean doesn't realise it in time. “Finger me, sir. Open me up.”

“Oh, you think you're ready for that? Already?” There’s amusement in Benny’s voice. “That sounds like something you’d enjoy, not something you’ll learn from. This is supposed to be a punishment, boy, not pleasure.”

“I… I’m sorry, sir.” Dean hides his face in the mattress. “Whatever you do to me is what I deserve.”

“Hmm. Better.” The sound of lube being uncapped reaches Dean’s ears and he barely has time to consider what’s coming when two wet fingers start to circle his hole agonisingly slowly, and he moans softly into the sheets. The tip of one finger enters him and his cock pulses as he gasps - it hurts, burns thanks to the spanking, but the stretch is bliss. Then a second finger pushes in too and sinks in deep and he relaxes into the mattress, trying to hold in his sounds of pleasure. Benny fingers him slowly then the sensation of a warm, wet tongue joins in and his spine arches as he’s rimmed deliciously by his dom.

“Sir… that feels incredible… thank you, thank you, sir… please, more…”

Benny licks and laps and sucks at his rim as he fingers him nice and deep, adding a third finger and finding his prostate easily, circling it and pressing down firmly. Dean’s whole body jerks and the tip of his cock pulses out a pearl of wet precome. He groans and pushes back onto Benny’s mouth, and is rewarded by a sharp slap to his sore ass, but Benny doesn’t stop. He eats him out for what feels like forever, fingering him open and stretching him until he can feel his rim loose and wet and ready. Then Benny really gets to work: two fingers circle and massage his prostate and Dean moans, gasping and trying to hold back the pleasure rising within him. He doesn’t want to come yet; he wants to come on his dom’s cock, impaled and fucked open and screaming in pleasured agony. He wants Benny’s hands on him, wants to feel himself stretched open on Benny’s thick, slick shaft, and _oh God_ this line of thought is going to push him over the edge too soon… Benny’s fingers twist inside him and circle his prostate again; Dean’s cock is now dripping a steady stream of precome and throbbing pleasantly between his open thighs. Benny mouths at him for a moment more then pulls back, and he swears he can feel him grin. His skin is chafed from the other man’s beard and he loves the burn. He tests the bonds on his arms by pulling gently; they hold fast. He’s going nowhere.

“You ready for me, sugar?” Benny is at Dean's side now, the tips of two fingers resting just inside his hole and the back of his other hand brushing Dean’s cheek gently. The leather feels fantastic on his cheek and Dean sighs. A full-body tremor pulses through him and he _wants._ It's taking every ounce of self-control he possesses not to wriggle back onto Benny’s hand. He's over-sensitive and over-stimulated after being so deeply fingered and having his prostate massaged for so long, and he's desperate for more, whining needily.

“Yes! Please, please fuck me, sir. Please.” The hand at his face slaps him gently.

“What did I tell you about cursin’? If you can't hold your tongue…”

“No! I can, sir, I promise. I'm sorry. I'll behave. Just take me, please.”

Benny makes a noise of confirmation and moves behind him again, the fingers pressing back inside his hole then pulling out - four fingers push back in, stretching and spreading him once more but before Dean can get too into it Benny’s hand is gone. There's the sound of lube being uncapped, and Dean really has to fight not to demand his dom to hurry up. Between his legs, his cock is hanging neglected, and he can feel how much he's dripping with need. A gloved hand returns to the swell of his asscheek, spreading him again, and he inhales in anticipation, waiting for the hot press of Benny’s cock against his wet, stretched hole.

“What's your colour, Dean?” Benny’s voice is dark with arousal and Dean can barely get the words out fast enough as a wave of need crashes through him.

“Green! Green, sir, please. I'm so ready for you… _oh…”_

Something blunt and slick presses against his rim, but it isn't his dom’s cock. It's tapered and cooler and _firm_ \- a toy, and Dean is certain he knows exactly which one. _Fuck._ He should have known Benny wasn't finished with him yet…

“Colour, Dean?” The head of the toy pushes into him, stretching him wide, and Dean groans in pleasure as his cock pulses between his legs. Benny has chosen his favourite toy, he's sure of it, and he can only hazard a guess at what will be in store for him. When he doesn't respond quickly enough to the question, Benny slaps his ass hard with his gloved hand: the impact on his already-tender skin makes him cry out and jerk, and the toy sinks in another inch. “Colour, now Dean, or I'm ending this scene.”

“Green… oh fu- oh, God!” He corrects himself mindlessly, barely holding on to the memory of being told not to curse. Benny murmurs praise, and pleasure and pride swell simultaneously within him.

Another inch of the toy slides in, wider now, stretching his slick rim even more and he groans at the intrusion. He wonders what he looks like, spread out on this toy, helpless under Benny’s control, bound and blindfolded. His cock pulses again, leaking more precome onto the sheets as the toy sinks even deeper inside him. He spreads his legs more, helplessly, and Benny smacks him again for doing it, but he can't help it. “ _Sir_! Please, oh _please_!” He doesn't know what he's begging for, but as Benny pulls the you out a couple of inches he finds himself pleading again and - _yes, fuck,_ he's rewarded by it being pushed deeply back into him and another inch presses inside. His knees slip on the sheets and he's spread so wide the tip of his cock, wet and pulsing and desperate, brushes against the fabric; he moans lewdly at the contact and Benny pulls the toy out again, this time almost all the way so the head of it tugs at his rim, before pushing it slowly back in. “ _Sir! Oh, God!_ ” It's wide, thick, splitting him open and he groans at the intrusion; Benny takes his response as a cue and pulls it out again then, settling himself on the bed behind Dean and steadying his hips with a firm hand, begins to thrust it in and out of his sub’s tight body. Dean _keens_ , gasping, and if he wasn’t bound so perfectly he would be holding onto the sheets for dear life as Benny starts to fuck him harder, plunging the dildo as deep as it will go then drawing it out so far that the very tip leaves Dean’s body and penetrates him perfectly as it goes back in.

“Yes…yes…oh, God, oh sir, oh please, fuck me harder…” He’s close now, the tip of the toy hitting his prostate with every thrust, and Benny seems to get it because he slowly his thrusts but instead starts to grind the toy into Dean’s body. The pressure on his sweet spot changes and becomes constant as the toy is worked deeply inside him, and the pleasure starts to build and build, his muscles tightening and his hands clenching into fists. He’s going to come, there’s no way he can fight it with Benny fucking him so perfectly, and he can’t stop his groans and gasps as his orgasm approaches with fierce momentum. He feels his ass clench around the toy, drawing it deeper into his body, his balls start to draw up and his cock pulses… then Benny’s hand comes between his thighs to circle the base of his dick firmly, and he _howls_. 

“You close, sugar?” Benny’s voice is thick with mirth, barely cutting into Dean’s haze; he knows Dean is right on the edge, and also knows that with his hand now creating a perfect, tight cockring around him that orgasm will be impossible until he lets go. The toy hasn’t stopped grinding within him, and Dean arches and whimpers and starts to beg helplessly, unaware of what he’s actually saying but desperate to come. He feels like he might burn up entirely if Benny doesn’t let him reach climax. His balls are tight up to his body and he can’t stop himself shaking as his dom strokes them gently with a leather-clad thumb. “So beautiful like this, cher. Right on the edge, waiting for my command. You like this toy, don’t you? You love it moving inside you, teasing you, pushing you right to that point where all you wanna do is come.” Benny leans down closer, and Dean groans as his thumb presses just a little harder on his balls; the toy is still inside him now, but not for long. Benny pulls it out halfway then drives it back in, his grip on the base of Dean’s cock tightening, and he cries out helplessly into the sheets, his cock throbbing and pulsing between his thighs with the desperation to spill his load all over his dom’s hand. 

"If it weren’t for my hand, pretty, you’d be coming right now wouldn’t you? You’d be riding that beautiful wave, soaking my hand with your spend. Is that what you want?”

The toy pumps in and out again as Dean’s whole body shakes. His knees slip again on the sweat-soaked sheets and the head of his cock pushes into the fabric, sending sparks of pleasure through him and he starts to sob quietly. Every muscle is wound tight, his arms and shoulders are spasming with the need to reach between his own legs, and his thighs are trembling under the strain of keeping himself up on his knees to please his dom. Benny won’t be happy if he collapses onto his stomach; somehow, from his place deep in subspace, he knows he needs to hold on a little more. That Benny will give him what he needs. He’s slipping, sensations slowly blending together to form one cresting wave of agonised pleasure, and the toy pumps in and out of his clenching ass again. He sobs quietly, his vision whiting out behind the blindfold, and Benny’s thumb moves to caress the tender space behind his balls as the toy slips from him and he’s left wet, gaping, and empty, his hole clenching and desperate for more. 

Dean can do nothing at all but pant into the sheets, the blindfold wet with tears, and wait until his body stops shaking quite as badly and the wave of pleasure recedes to low burn once more. His shoulders ache deliciously, and his hips are starting to hurt from his splayed-out position. He can hear Benny speaking but can’t discern words, and only hopes he’s doing as he’s asked - whatever that may be. His hopes are confirmed when Benny releases his cock and he moans in relief and distress - he’s throbbing and leaking and desperate for an orgasm, and he’s getting close to his limit. A hand rests on his cheek and Benny’s voice sounds from somewhere close by.

“Colour, Dean? Answer me, now, boy.” His voice is soft, commanding but gentle, and Dean chokes out _green_ with a low sob. It’s almost _yellow._ Almost. If Benny doesn't get inside him soon then it will be. Then Benny moves behind him and grips his hips with both hands, now bare and free of his gloves, and Dean’s breath catches on a relieved moan as the tip of his dom’s uncovered cock touches to his overstimulated rim and presses in slowly.

Benny fucks him fast and hard, avoiding his prostate, and grips the binding holding Dean’s arms for leverage, yanking on them with every pump of his hips and jerking his sub’s body back onto his cock, bringing beautiful cries from Dean’s lips with every thrust. Through his haze of ecstasy and need, Dean hears the two words that catapult him over the edge into orgasm with not even a touch to his dripping cock: _Come, boy._

And he does. He spills onto the sheets below him, pumping load after load all over the bed with wrung-out cries as Benny focusses his thrusts on his prostate and fucks him hard through his orgasm, drawing it out so it goes on and on. He’s sure Benny comes too, certain that the tightening of his over-worked body brings his dom to the edge and over, but his vision goes white as he collapses onto the bed, then dark as blissful unconsciousness takes him and drags him under.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning comes way too soon. Dean could stay wrapped up in Benny’s arms for an eternity and it still wouldn't be long enough. But gentle kisses to the back of his neck combined with caresses up and down his sides finally draw him awake, and he whines in displeasure at being conscious. It's early, neither of them have to be at work for a couple of hours, and he just want to cuddle. That's exactly what they do for a while until Dean’s stomach growls demandingly and Benny laughs.

“I'll make you breakfast. Anythin’ you like, cher. What sounds good?”

It goes against every fibre in Dean to allow someone to take care of him like this, but he and Benny have had more than one frank discussion about aftercare following a scene, so Dean no longer argues. Last night when he came to, he found that Benny had untied him and cleaned him up with a warm cloth, that he was wearing soft sweatpants and a cosy t-shirt belonging to his dom, and that he was cradled in Benny’s arms feeling safe and secure despite his aching body. Benny had kissed him over and over, had rubbed his arms and massaged lotion into the chafes from the rope, and had told him how perfect he had been, how gorgeous, how obedient and much Benny loves being with him. The bed had been stripped somehow and new sheets thrown on, and Benny had sat him up and fed him chocolate and helped him sip water until sleep tugged demandingly at the edge of his consciousness. He had fallen asleep on the other man’s chest and sunk into pleasant, romance-filled dreams. He stretches in bed and watches the Deputy get up and throw on some sweats.

“Bacon. Coffee. Juice. Eggs over easy.” He grins up at Benny who just smiles back at him.

“Oh, you wanna be spoiled, that it?” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, leans down and kisses Dean deeply. “I'm sure I can manage that. You're havin’ sugar in your coffee - no, don't argue with me - and water, too.”

Dean frowns, but nods his acquiescence. He hates sugary morning coffee but Benny is right; he expended a lot of energy during their scene last night - one of their most intense yet - and he needs to replace it.

“OK. That sounds good.”

“Stay here, sugar.” Benny runs a hand lovingly through Dean’s hair. “Stay in bed and relax, I'll go make us something to eat. Only get up if you need the bathroom, alright?”

Sleepy, Dean nods. His world still feels fuzzy around the edges from sleep and he's aching pleasantly in multiple places. Wrists, thighs, throat and ass, to name a few. He watches Benny go, hears him descend the stairs with his familiar, heavy footsteps, and he snuggles down into the blankets to doze for a few minutes. But he _does_ need the bathroom, so he throws the sheets off himself and gets up to go. Immediately, the tender skin of his ass and thighs smarts, exposed to the air, and he hisses in discomfort. He's barely three steps across the room when a chill hits him; the feel of the cool wood under his feet, the air in the room now that he isn't swathed in blankets and comfort, and the exposure of being nude and alone in someone else’s bedroom after what they've done hits him like a sledgehammer. Followed quickly by the memory of _why_ they did what they did: because he fucked up. Week three of his new job, and error number three on his record already. Benny must be _so_ disappointed in him, and this was his way of showing it.

All the sweet, gentle, caring words the other man has showered on him melt away, and Dean can only hear himself being reprimanded, being talked down to, and being humiliated while he lay naked and bound and unable to speak to defend himself. _But that isn't what happened_ , the rational part of his mind tries to speak up. _That isn't how it was!_ But Dean isn't feeling particularly rational right now: familiar feelings of disappointment, self-loathing, disgust and humiliation are washing over him and he stumbles to the bathroom on shaky legs. He tries to lock the door but his hands are trembling too much, so instead he gives in and curls up against the bathtub, arms around his knees and head resting on them, attempting to calm himself. His thighs ache as he moves, reminding him of the things they did together, and the welts on his ass sting more than a little.

_You let him down, Dean. And look what he had to do to get the message home. You fucked up, again. Why can't you just do as you're asked? Why can't you manage basic tasks without him having to intervene? You don't deserve the job you have, and you don't deserve him._

A noise outside the door draws his attention but only for a second. He's cold, starting to shiver, and he hugs his knees even tighter.

_Get it together. If Benny sees you this way he'll be disgusted. Pull yourself together, Dean!_

“I'll be out in a minute…” His voice sounds relatively normal to his own ears, albeit muffled into his forearms. Dimly he hears someone knocking at the door and tightens his grip on his knees. He doesn't get a chance to say anything more: the door opens and suddenly Benny is on his knees at his side and a hand is in his hair. The other comes to stroke his shoulder then, as Benny seems to realise that Dean is shaking almost violently, he sighs sadly and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close to his chest.

“Darlin’, what is it? Dean, talk to me, please, cher. What's going on in that head of yours?”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Dean can't lift his head, can't let Benny see how close he is to tears. “I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I promise, I promise I won't do it again.”

“ _Dean,_ ” Benny sounds pained, and holds him a little tighter, starting to rub circles into the skin of his back, tracing his spine and drawing slow patterns with his fingers. “Don't call me that any more, the scene is over, you know that. Look at me.” Dean shakes his head, face still buried in his arms. “Sugar, please look at me. Please trust me.”

He raises his head slowly, and Benny moves in front of him to cup his jaw and look deeply into his eyes, his own expression unhappy and worried. He sighs, resting his forehead against Dean’s, then pulls away to reach over and turn the shower on. Steam slowly starts to swirl up and thicken the air as Benny rubs Dean’s shoulders to try and bring the feeling back into them.

“I thought you were alright,” he murmurs, running his hands through his hair and stroking his cheeks. “I'm sorry, Dean, really, I am. Lets get you in the shower-”

“No, Benny,” Dean grabs for his lover, eyes wide and scared as fear crashes through him. “It's me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fucked up, I didn't mean it. It won't happen again, I swear…”

“Baby. I know.” Benny gently loops Dean’s arms around his own neck and stands, holding him upright with a strong arm around his waist and manoeuvres him into the shower. After stripping off his sweat pants, he joins him a second later. His hands are warm and soothing, and stroke over Dean’s sore ass and thighs and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes and fighting a swell of emotion. Benny is his dom, his lover, the man he defers to both at work and in private. He shouldn't have to care for Dean like this, he needs to be stronger. Needs to not fall apart at the drop of a hat. Needs to _get it right_.

Benny takes both his hands and places them on the wall in front of him, his chest pressing up against Dean’s back. For the first time in their relationship, he feels a stab of fear: he isn't ready for another round. He's too sore, feels too raw and too low, but he doesn't know how to say no. He hopes Benny asks for his colour, because he's sure he could be honest and say _yellow_ , but instead lips press against the back of his neck and he shivers in trepidation.

“Benny… I don't think… I'm…” _It hurts._ “I don't think I can…”

“Darlin’. I would never.” Benny’s hands come to his hips; the water cascades down on them both, streaming over their skin and it's cleansing. Refreshing. Dean's eyes fall closed. “Stay right there. I'll take care ‘o you.”

And he does. He massages Dean’s shoulders, following the movements of his hands with gentle kisses all the way down his spine, then kneels behind him and repeats the caresses on his calves, thighs and ass, firm fingers working the tension out of sore muscles. There's nothing sexual about it at all, just a deep desire to make Dean feel better, to work the tension from his body and to relax him. Benny stands up and gathers up shower gel and shampoo, and insists Dean stays still while he washes the remnants of sweat and come from his body, then massages shampoo into his scalp until Dean’s head falls back to land on his shoulder. And that's when Dean can no longer hold back the tears: it feels so _good_ , to be held and caressed and cherished like this, and he doesn't deserve any of it. A swell of emotion comes crashing down on him and he chokes on a sob, tears starting to flow freely and Benny holds him as he cries. He's turned around in the Deputy’s arms and held close, the warmth of the steam and water cocooning them and making him feel safe, secure within Benny’s embrace. He doesn't know how long he cries for, face buried in his hands against Benny’s chest, but when he finally comes back to himself they're curled up in bed together and gentle hands are stroking through his hair. They lie together quietly for a while until his sobs subside to gentle sniffles and the feeling has returned properly to his limbs.

They don't go to work. Benny calls the precinct and tells them something half-hearted and whoever he speaks to gives no argument. Then he turns back to Dean and checks in, stroking his skin and whispering words of comfort to him until he's properly back to himself and can form words and sit up without help.

Benny sits up with him and helps him drink juice, then coffee, then hand-feeds him pieces of bacon and toast, which Dean takes silently, gratefully. He's too worn-out and exhausted to contemplate even basic tasks himself, and having Benny’s solid arm wrapped around him while he's fed is grounding and comforting. When he's done, they lie back down again Anna Benny resumes stroking his hair.

“Let’s talk about it, cher.” It's not a question. “I haven't seen you drop like that in a long time. Talk to me.”

“I just…” Dean's voice is raw from crying and he coughs once or twice to clear his throat. “I don't want to disappoint you. Ever. And I guess I felt like I had.”

“Why?”

“Because…” _Because you had to punish me. Because I screwed up._ “I felt like I had.”

“You could never disappoint me, Dean.” Benny’s voice is low and serious. “Ever. The only thing you could do to disappoint me is to not be honest with me. You know that.”

“I do.” He toys with his fingers, feeling his cheeks redden. He's so tired, all he wants to do is sleep. He feels hungover, or like he's run a marathon. “And I know I didn't, not really. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I just want to be enough,” he says it so quietly he knows Benny has to strain to hear him.

“Enough for what?” The surprise is thick in the other man’s voice.

“For you. At work, at home… For my colleagues.” _For myself._ “I don't want to be a failure.” And shit, _that_ was hard to admit. He feels his hands tremble and he presses his lips tightly closed, waiting for the response. Waiting, hoping, to be told he isn't a failure. That he won't be if he works hard enough. That Benny can help him to not be.

“Cher. Look at me.” He does, tilting his head to look up into dark eyes that are now soft with compassion. Benny kisses him, his stubble rough against Dean’s skin. “You've always been enough for me. And you always will be, no matter what you do. It's a privilege bein’ with you, Dean. Every day’s a charm, and I mean that. I…”

He goes quiet, and Dean feels panic bubble up in his throat. Is Benny going to say… no, _surely_ not… The older man kisses him again, cupping his jaw and exploring his mouth gently for a minute or two. Then, against Dean’s lips, he whispers words that go straight to Dean’s heart and curl up there, making a home for themselves.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. You are enough. You'll always be enough.”

*

Half an hour later, when Dean is able to speak again, he says it back. And a moment after that, he says, “I don't feel like I'm enough for you right now, Benny.” The other man starts to protest but he hushes him, not finished yet. He can't look at Benny when he speaks again, because he feels like he'll cry, but when he's done a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead and he's held close for hours and hours as Benny cares for him and cherishes him and tells him he's loved over and over again.

_“I don't feel like I'm enough for you right now. But I feel like someday soon, I'll know I am.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Got a trope? Come talk to me on Tumblr: <http://coffeeandcas.tumblr.com>


End file.
